


premonitions

by trill_gutterbug



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: (or is it post-slash? mid-slash?), Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Victorian Couples Costumes (Attempted), mad lad opium war bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26041918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trill_gutterbug/pseuds/trill_gutterbug
Summary: “I have a proposal for you.” Dundy braced an elbow on the table, leaning forward. Charles did not return the gesture. He watched the lantern light play in Dundy’s ashy hair, sharpening the angle of his nose and cheeks. “Have you chosen your costume for the carnival?”
Relationships: Charles Frederick Des Voeux & Henry T. D. Le Vesconte, Charles Frederick Des Voeux/Lt Henry T. D. Le Vesconte
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10
Collections: @terror_exe Flash Fest





	premonitions

**Author's Note:**

> For the [terror_exe fest](https://areyougonnabe.tumblr.com/post/627075837789962240/announcing-the-terrorexe-flash-fest-coming-next).  
> [](https://imgbb.com/)

“Your very good health, Mr Des Voeux,” said Dundy, lifting his mug in Charles’ direction. His smirk was just visible over its edge.

Charles tipped his own mug in reply. “And yours, Lieutenant.” He didn’t need to roll his eyes - he could tell from the angle of Dundy’s mouth that his wry tone had not gone unremarked.

They threw back their drams together. Charles winced as he swallowed. Even boiled, even taken every evening regular as clockwork, the lemon never became less disagreeable. 

“Horrid!” said Dundy cheerfully, banging his mug on the table.

Charles, who had seen Dundy swallow much worse under significantly less duress, snorted. “Certainly it lacks subtlety of flavour.” He slid his mug across to clink against Dundy’s. The galley was deep in shadow at this hour of the night, manned only by the first dog watch of sleepers in their hammocks and a cook’s boy dozing by the oven. It was too easy to pretend they had privacy. “The more vile the taste, the better it is for you, isn’t that what the doctors say?”

Dundy sniffed, wiping a curl of hair off his forehead with one wrist. Belowdecks was hot after coming in from the ice; there was sweat shining on Dundy’s face. Charles felt an answering prickle at the nape of his neck, although he bore the heat more naturally than Dundy. He tucked two fingers in the collar of his coat to loosen it. Dundy, watching him, adopted the beginning of a sly expression. Charles’ heart gave a sharp leap in his chest, which he ignored. It never served to give Dundy the satisfaction of capitulation or even attentiveness too early. 

“I have a proposal for you.” Dundy braced an elbow on the table, leaning forward. Charles did not return the gesture. He watched the lantern light play in Dundy’s ashy hair, sharpening the angle of his nose and cheeks. “Have you chosen your costume for the carnival?”

“Not yet.” 

Dundy’s smile broadened. 

“Oh, Christ,” Charles grumbled. 

“You haven’t even heard my idea!” 

“I don’t need to.” Charles cast his eyes heavenward, his performative plea arrested by the beams overhead. “No doubt it involves myself hunched in the tail end of a burlap horse, or bearing Your Highness on a gilded litter.”

“It’ll be a laugh,” Dundy insisted. His voice was all grinning. “Come on, now. You remember Canton.”

Charles did remember Canton. It was one of his fondest memories. “I recall my broken toe.”

Dundy, who fell short these days of the number of toes God had bequeathed Adam, made a face. Charles was momentarily regretful, allowed Dundy to see so, then insisted more firmly, “It didn’t end well.” 

“And now we retain the experience of that first attempt to inform our second.” 

Charles tried with futility to swallow a smile. Their circumstances had been so unfailingly grim for so long, it caught him unawares to feel galvanised by the tide of Dundy’s coercive gaiety. His perverse desire to refuse out of hand anything Dundy suggested warred with the tantalising excitement of agreement. Historically, broken toes were the least casualty this type of scheme begat. 

“No,” said Charles. “Find some other poor sod. Ask Fitzjames.”

Dundy wrinkled his nose. “He’s chosen his already.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. 

“Our own fair and beautiful nymph, heiress of Poseidon, Her Majesty’s mighty out-thrust right arm.” Dundy affected a mien of national sentiment, folding a hand over his heart. 

Charles grimaced. “Fitting.”

Dundy lowered his hand, but held Charles’ gaze. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider? Minimal discomfort, I assure you.”

Charles shook his head. “I’ll find my own way.”

“Ah.” Dundy made a graceful gesture, forgiving Charles’ unsporting reticence. “Just as well. You might look a proper fiend in piratical attire.” He pushed himself up from the table, which rocked on its gimbals, and gave Charles the sort of wink that made the coal swelter of the galley seem itself Arctic. “I’m for the rack. Good evening, Mr Des Voeux.”

Charles, shuddering, frustrated, did not reply. In his distraction, Dundy’s words took too long to sink in, so that Dundy was already gone up the ladderway and disappeared into the night by the time they formed in Charles’ mind. “Pirate?” he mumbled to himself. He pictured it and shrugged. Perhaps not so bad. Well. There was always next time.


End file.
